“Never more than now, I am sure,” said Muriel gently.
“Jim is a first-rate fellow,” remarked Edward. “Boyish for his years, perhaps, and overpoweringly conscientious. But I believe, when he goes out into the world, he will make his mark.”
“He is a worthy, unassuming lad,” said Mrs. Morland indifferently. “I should hardly have credited him with more than an average share of brains. Of course, I readily admit that he has had no advantages.”
Edward gaily contested the point, arguing that in learning to use his hands as well as his head, Jim had provided himself with two forces instead of one to aid him in doing battle with difficulties. Mrs. Morland declined to show interest in Jim, but she listened courteously to her stepson’s praises, and left her combatant in possession of the field.
The two visitors were disarmed, and began to think they might hitherto have done their hostess injustice on some points at least. They had walked out of set purpose to Rowdon that afternoon, after stirring up each other, as their habit was, to undertake a doubtful errand. They were wondering now whether they might not hope—with the mother in this gracious mood—to make that errand something of a success.
“And how is Frances, our own dear Altruist?” questioned Muriel presently. “I thought yesterday that she was looking pale and tired.”
“Indeed! I have not heard her complain. She has excellent health, fortunately, and is altogether stronger than Austin.”
“Oh, Austin will make a sturdy fellow by and by,” said Carlyon cheerily.
“Meanwhile,” said Muriel tentatively, “I hope our pair of pickles aren’t overdoing it? You will forgive me, Mrs. Morland, I’m sure, if I intrude on you with selfish anxieties. You see, Edward and I can’t contemplate with equanimity the loss of our pupils, and Frances has been telling me that she is afraid she must give up some of her studies.”
Mrs. Morland flushed angrily. “She has said nothing of the kind to me.”